


Choices

by imimmortalagain



Series: They Were Each Others Universe [2]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Denial of Feelings, F/F, Falling In Love, Feelings Realization, First Kiss, Fluff, Happy Ending, Internalized Homophobia, brief bout of self hatred, its not a main plot or a recurring thing but I thought it necessary to tag, learning to cope
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:40:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26974546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imimmortalagain/pseuds/imimmortalagain
Summary: They've finally found stability after the events that took place on Gallifrey. Now, they need to address their developing feelings for each other.It's difficult, however, when Yaz is in denial of her sexuality.
Relationships: Thirteenth Doctor/Yasmin Khan
Series: They Were Each Others Universe [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1968499
Comments: 22
Kudos: 54





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> part ii of sandcastles and paintings ! hope you like,,

Yaz dozed, skimming the line between sleep and wakefulness. The artificial sunlight that the TARDIS created poured into her room from a nearby window and she bathed in it. The warmth was enjoyable. Different from the warmth from her covers or the Doctor’s sleeping body. 

They had continued to share a bed. Not that they had needed it anymore; habits were just hard to break. Some nights the Doctor had to work on the TARDIS and Yaz had been able to find slumber without her. Aside from the little anxiety fizzing in her stomach, it wasn’t bad. She was fine and could do it without nightmares.

But her chest ached when it happened. It constricted in upon her and she longed for a reason to tell the Doctor to stay, just stay all night. Every night. But most nights were better than no nights and having complete time to herself was a welcome, if not strangely painful, change of pace. But luckily the Doctor had stayed the night before. And here she was.

Face to face. Yaz loved it. Their breaths mingling in the space between them. Space that was in continual flux but here it was static, perfectly still, perfectly perfect in a way that Yaz could take in the Doctor’s beauty without having to worry about their distance changing. She could feel their gravity at this point, the soft pulsing call between three hearts and...

But she wasn’t… These feelings didn’t make sense. They were overwhelming. Her life didn’t have the parameters necessary for this. Never had. It didn’t when she had thought she liked Izzy Flint and well, not now. 

But the Doctor looked so angelic in the soft honey-tinted light and longing pooled in her gut. Some image of her and the Doctor, her and the Doctor happy, reflected in the water. But one day that well would run dry and beneath that happy image laid the truth that she just wasn’t like that. That she couldn’t have a relationship like that. 

Yaz sighed and closed her eyes. Perhaps no nights would have been better. Perhaps space would help. This was too much. She bit her lip and scrambled off the bed, uncaring of how it affected the Doctor, she just needed to get out of there, needed to get away. 

Her feet hit cool wooden floor and she sighed, barely taking the time to stretch she started to make her way to the door, feet softly padding away from the bed where the Doctor began to stir. 

Yaz clenched her jaw before opening the door slightly, creak filling the space around them, and slipping through the crack.

The floor went from cool, smooth wood to burning cold metal. It was brisk. Something to focus on. Bare feet on metal, so cold, she could think about that. That and how she was walking. She walked, trying to run from her head, run from the Doctor, run from that stilled lying reflection. Step after step after step after hand on her shoulder. 

There was a hand on her shoulder and she came to a stop, it was light, barely resting there and turned to find the Doctor. Worry painted onto her face, eyebrows drawn together and mouth slightly parted. Her hair was messy, still disheveled from sleep while her body was nestled between a soft pajama set that Yaz had lent to her. “Hey,” Her voice was soft. As if she was talking to something wounded. She was, wasn’t she? “What’s wrong?”

Her voice was enticing. Soft. Careful. And the words she needed to say danced along the tip of her tongue asking for escape. And she chewed them up and swallowed. They were dangerous. She shook her head, “Nothin’.” She shrugged, “Just a nightmare.”

“I’m still here for you, Yaz, anythin’ you need, right?”

“Yeah, thanks.” 

][

_The grass tickled the bottoms of their legs and the wind blew into their face. It was a calm Saturday, spent between friends lounging time away on top of a hill. They sat side by side, barely enough room to let a breeze pass through. It was a Saturday Yaz would have loved to savor, to press between pages and immortalize it._

_“One more year, eh?” Izzy turned to face Yaz, shoulders melded together as they had been all summer. Yaz’s hand spread out in the grass where Izzy’s fingers grazed hers thoughtlessly. Painfully. The contact seared against Yaz’s skin._

_“Yeah, one more year.” She smiled and nodded. She risked a glance over to Izzy and their eyes met. Deep brown on blueish-gray. A jolt of something ran through Yaz and she sighed, stomach twisting itself into knots. One more year until she didn’t have to deal with these emotions anymore._

_Izzy returned the smile, her pinky twitching. A glaringly obvious reminder of their contact, their lack of space. Yaz sighed before reminding herself not to enjoy it. If Izzy didn’t feel the same way back then she’d make her uncomfortable. If she was straight Yaz would have really made her uncomfortable. Straight girls could be like that. On edge, flirting with lesbophobia._

_It was too much. The proximity, always too much. Yaz wanted to move back even slightly but why not indulge in the small things? Besides, this easy, comfortable air around them that led to causal touches would make putting space between them an insult._

_“Off on another planet there?” Izzy asked. Apparently her silence had been longer than she had thought._

_A tense chuckle fell from her lips, Izzy’s words bringing her back to reality. “Yeah, ‘spose I am.”_

_Izzy smiled and laid back, stretching her feet out in front of her until she was spread out against the green grass. She patted the empty patch of grass beside her and gave a little head nod at Yaz and Yaz took after her. A heavy breath filled her lungs to capacity and she lowered herself down until she was once against shoulder to shoulder with Izzy. Until she was lying down with Izzy. Her mind ran with the image, the idea before she could stop it. She bit her lip and focused on the dull pinch._

_“What planet would you go to if you could?”_

_“Venus.”_

_“Why?”_

_“Only planet to be named after a woman.” Yaz turned to face Izzy and for a charged, second time, Izzy was already looking at her._

_“Venus, the roman goddess of beauty, virility, passion,” She paused her voice slowing down with each syllable, “Sex, love.” Izzy’s voice still had an open tone, as if she wasn’t done listing things but couldn’t bring herself to continue. The moment drew to a pause, slowing down until neither of them remembered what had led them to this very moment. Izzy reached a slow, questioning, hesitant, cautious hand up to Yaz’s cheek and slowly rested it there before looking down to Yaz’s lips._

_Yaz’s heart stuttered. Threatened to break free from her chest. She didn’t know what to feel, what to think, when she slowly found herself leaning forward, her lips finding Izzy’s. Their soft lips worked against each other and Yaz forgot how breathe. She was kissing Izzy. She was kissing Izzy, the one thing she had dreamed about for years. It was finally happening._

][

_Yaz found herself outside Izzy’s door, bare feat on a course carpet and arms wrapped tight to fight the chill of the night. She knew the way to Izzy’s house by heart now, had even slept walked there before, and a couple of tears weren’t going to change that._

_The day had been hell. The catastrophic difference from the excited happy buzz yesterday nearly killed her spirit. Izzy had given her the cold shoulder, kept her at a distance, and the one time that Yaz was able to get close to her she cussed her out and the wall of people that surrounded her pushed Yaz away, insulted her. And it killed her. She had went home and broke down, cried and ate and cried and stayed in her room. Refusing to answer any question her family put forth._

_She raised her hand, dark knuckles contrasted against light wood. Her heart was in her throat. Three sharp rasps filled the air around her and her anxiety welled. Then there was the turn of the door and Izzy was fact to face with Yaz._

_“Yaz.” Her voice was shocked, worried, embarrassed. A cocktail of emotions that Yaz didn’t want to decode. Izzy took in a deep breath and stepped outside onto the balcony of the apartment complex aside from her, the door pulled shut behind her._

_“Izzy.”_

_“Hey.”_

_“Hey?” Yaz repeated, the irritation she had held onto all day finally bubbling to the surface, “That’s all you ‘ave to say to me?”_

_“Yaz_ —”

_“Don’t ‘Yaz’ me. I can’t even begin to understand why you—”_

_“It’s wrong, it’s gross and,” Izzy shook her head and sighed, “You know it is, homos are perverts and disgusting and I’m not one it meant nothing, okay?”_

_“Why are you saying this?”_

_“Because it’s true_ —”

_“That’s not it.”_

_“Tasha found out.”_

_“What?”_

_“Tasha found out about it and threatened to tell my parents.”_

_“How?”_

_“She watched it happen, were comin’ up the back of the hill. She threatened to tell my parents, Yaz. And I mean, that doesn’t matter. It’s gross and it’s not me. I’m not a homo.”_

_“You’re lying, tell me you felt something too.”_

_“No, Yaz honestly it meant nothing. You didn’t think that we’d actually_ —”

_“No.” Yaz shook her head, cheeks burning, why make herself more vulnerable to this person. But she didn’t have to feel that did she? “Why did you treat me like that? Why’d you ignore me?”_

_“I had to—”_

_“No, y’didn’t.”_

_“I told Tasha that you pushed yourself onto me, that I didn’t have a choice and that I didn’t want it, which is true Yaz, I’m not gay I didn’t want it.” That was it, enough to shatter Yaz. The anger finally swelled up much more than it had ever reached before. Her limbs twitched, aching, itching to move to slap or punch or kick Izzy, some way to channel the anger that was buzzing inside of her, some way to show Izzy just how much pain she felt._

_“You told them that I forced myself onto you?” Yaz cringed and her entire form tensed with anger and confusion, “That I was some dangerous predatory dyke or something? I can’t believe you.” She clenched her jaw tight and took in a deep breath fighting the tears from dripping onto her face. She turned away from Izzy and took a step._

_“Yaz, wait.” She felt a hand around her wrist and Yaz shook her off and pushed her back, hard too, based on the way Izzy slammed into the wall of her house._

_“Stay the hell away from me.”_

][

The water was comfortable, a little warm, just enough to stop Yaz from shivering. It was grounding, was able to pull her out of her head better than anything. She focused on it, the water the water glided against her skin as she kicked up and down and up and down. Because it was either that or Izzy Flint.

On the other hand, Izzy Flint had been right. She hadn’t liked girls, it was just her being a young confused teenager. She didn’t like girls and that was something that Izzy had hit straight on the nose. But she still made her last year of school pure hell. But she wasn’t going to think about it. Wasn’t going to think about it. Wasn’t going to.

“Hey.” The voice came out of nowhere and Yaz jumped slightly, a little water splashing up to fall loudly against the surface. The Doctor’s voice was gentle and it was nice to hear it. But startling nonetheless. She recovered quickly, muscles finally dropping their excess worry and energy and she turned to face the Doctor.

“Hey.”

“Um,” She started with an awkward look on her face, “If you’re having nightmares again let me know, if you want. I might be able to help, Yaz and I _want_ to help. Okay?” Her eyes were bright hazel and it was soothing. Soothing and nerve-wracking. 

Yaz took in a deep breath, the chamber of her chest expanding with a question, a possibility before _gross, dangerous, dyke_ spilled into her lungs and the thought was lost. She shook her head, looking back down to the water, “It’s nothin’. Jus’ nothin’. I’m fine.”

][

Yaz tapped her fingers on the hardcover of the book, she’d been reading the same sentence over and over. Well, more like her eyes looked at the letters, she never internalized them. She was sitting in her bed, book held up above her face, the perfect distraction. Except it wasn’t perfect. Her mind sifted through topics. Everything from the Doctor’s lips, what they tasted like, what they felt like, to her hands and how she wondered if their hands would fit together like perfect pieces of an unfinished puzzle.

_You’re not like that. You don’t like girls._

The voice was small, dark and disastrous. And right. She didn’t like girls. There was no point in indulging in this, besides, even if she was gay, which she wasn’t. She wasn’t. But even if she was gay, hypothetically of course, the Doctor wouldn’t like her back. 

Yaz couldn’t tell which thought left a sour taste in her mouth.

She shook her head and willed her eyes to refocus on the page. _Love was like that, jaded and confusion. Love was_ —the way the Doctor cared for her after their latest mishaps out of the TARDIS. 

“Fuck.” The book really wasn’t helping. 

][

Weeks had passed since that morning Yaz had lost herself in her thoughts and the Doctor had to find her, bring her back to her real world aside from the pool. Her only effective method to get Izzy Flint of the Doctor out of her head was to pull the Doctor on adventure after adventure. And with each passing trip the tension grew, both with the types of things they were having to deal with outside of the TARDIS and strangely enough, between them.

Yaz stumbled into the TARDIS, the Doctor following after, both had soot and grime smeared onto their face. It was a last minute save. Some egregious time traveller had attempted to rewrite history, something as small as a bomb inside the Big Ben. 

The stairs came next and Yaz didn’t have the time to get proper footing she tripped forward, the Doctor grabbing her by the shoulder but it only took her down as well. The Doctor pulled Yaz closed and tried to maneuver her so that she wouldn’t be getting the blunt force. The Doctor’s back slammed against the metal floor and Yaz into her. 

Yaz grunted and rubbed her head before opening her eyes to find hazel, strikingly beautiful hazel eyes already watching her. Time slowed down. Grinded to a halt. Yaz laid across the Doctor, legs askew and tangled, jeans on culottes. Their eyes searched each others, swam in the others iris tying to find some answer as to what was happening between them. 

And it was so simple. So simple and heavy. For one beautiful moment the doubt, the hesitation fled from her system and she let her body act upon its desires. She leaned down and melded brown lips to pink, let them dance, let them feel the softness of such an intimate moment that they had denied each other for so long. 

And the her lungs were begging for oxygen. Begging for the pain to ease and the air to fill her lungs and she pulled back. She moved away, sucking air in between teeth and along with that air came the doubt.

_You’re leading her on. You don’t like girls and all you’re doing is hurting her._

She could still feel the Doctor’s breath on hers, still feel her body, her perfect beautiful body pressed against her and the confusion and regret swirled around her stomach like spoiled milk. She couldn’t take this any longer. Couldn’t take the heat of the Doctor’s body. Couldn’t take the soft touch of her breath. Couldn’t take the adoration in her eyes. Yaz couldn’t take it. 

She took in a deep breath, looking away, closing her eyes, anything to hide from the hazel that bore into her. She put her hand to the metal floor, it was cold, so cold, and pushed up rolling off the Doctor until she could get her feet beneath her. Her heart was pounding, she could hear it in her ear, it drowned out any words the Doctor had thought to utter as she began to run away from the console room. 

][

Yaz’s heart beat was thick in her bones, a relentless beat. The Doctor and her had kissed. They’d kissed. Her and the Doctor had kissed. No matter how many times she repeated that fact over and over in her head she couldn’t convince herself to believe that it was anything but a dream.

_Even if it wasn’t a dream, you’re not that way and you only just lead her on. You don’t like girls._

And that thought process had been a circle, one she had repeated many times in the hundreds of steps she took without realizing it. They kissed. She lead the Doctor on. By kissing her. They kissed, had they really, though?

Each jolt of the metal through her feet noted a change in the cycle. The thudding of her steps matched the pace of her beat, both loud and overwhelming, both ridiculously fast. It was a nauseating rhythm. Every beat took her further from the Doctor. Every beat clarified her regret and enunciated her attraction.

She ran a hand through her hair. Finger through sweaty strand of dark brown. And she did it again, focusing on the way the sweat stuck to her palm disgustingly. The way her fingers parted the hair into chunks. She couldn’t lead the Doctor on. She couldn’t do that. She wasn’t a woman who loved women. She didn’t even have a chance with the Doctor, couldn’t even like her in that way. So why kiss her? It was cruel. It was cruel. 

How does she even begin to broach the subject with the Doctor? Just tell her it was an accident? ‘Hey I didn’t mean to put my lips on your lips and make ‘em move around’. Pretend that she was sick, taken over by an alien parasite? Avoid her until she was sure that the Doctor had forgotten about it? The Doctor would forget eventually right? It was nothing. Why couldn’t it have just been nothing?

She sighed, clenched her fists shut and let out a pained, weighted, “God.” She continued to tread along the metallic floor, step after step after step after step after hand. Hand? There was a hand on her forearm. Firm but forgiving. She couldn’t help but jump, barely had enough time to slow down. She turned to face the Doctor, one hand on her heart.

“Sorry,” The Doctor said, eyebrows pinching together in a grimace.

“Y’coulda called for me, y’know.”

“What?”

“Like—”

“Yaz, I said your name, I called after you a lot.”

Well this was perfect. Alien parasite would really look accurate right about now. She shook her head slightly, “I didn’t hear you.”

“Lost in space or somethin’?” The Doctor forced a chuckle but it was as uncomfortable as it sounded to be. 

“Jus’ thinking.”

The Doctor nodded, her mouth opening to say something but her syllables clashed with whatever had left Yaz’s mouth at the same time. Their voices overlapped, fought to be heard and then were brought to an erupt stop.

“Uh, you first.” The Doctor nodded at her. 

“Y’sure?”

“Yeah.” The Doctor offered Yaz a reassuring smile but it only helped so much. Really only burned against Yaz.

“I,” She sighed and closed her eyes, she didn’t want to see the Doctor’s face as she the rest of her sentence took full form in her head, “I, I’m sorry, it was a mistake, the kiss. I didn’t mean to. It was a heat of the moment thing, just tension from the near death experience, if it had been Graham or Ryan the same thing woulda happened. ‘Sides, I’m not gay or anything. I’m straight, don’t go out for women.” Yaz hated the sour that caramelized onto her tongue. But this was for the better. She was straight. Didn’t like girls. 

“Right,” The Doctor agreed. Yaz looked into her face to watch the last dregs of some hurt fade from her face to leave room for an artificial expression. “I, uh, yeah, that’s exactly what I was comin’ here to say, were in the heat of the moment an’ all I jus’ wanted to apologize for makin’ you uncomfortable, I’m sorry it happened. 

“Thanks.” The Doctor nodded, offering her a small defeated smile. Yaz couldn’t think of anything else to say, couldn’t think of any word that would ease the pain stirring and bubbling in the bottom of her gut. She offered a tight lipped smile and nodded over her shoulder, “I, um, yeah, I got things to do, so I’m going to get to it.”

“Bye.”

“Bye.”

][

Yaz couldn’t sleep that night. It had been something of a theme in her life recently. Something strong stirred deep in her stomach. It was sticky and gross and heavy and it just coated everything. 

_It was a mistake._

The words overlaid in her mind, on some nasty repeat. Something about those four words turned at the pit of her stomach. 

_It was a mistake._

It was on the tip of her tongue, what was bothering her about it. But she couldn’t taste it. Couldn’t place it. She didn’t know why she felt like this. Didn’t know where it was coming from. Some darkness clawing at her. Mixing the guilt and the pain in her stomach.

_It was a mistake._

God, this was awful. She turned onto her stomach, face full of pillow, soft against her face, and groaned into it. If only she would start crying and then it would be an exact reenactment of her teenage years, the nights crying after Izzy Flint. The irony was exhausting and disappointing. 

Izzy Flint. 

_It meant nothing, okay._

_It was a mistake._

The near identical sentiments. Four words to crush a heart. Hearts. Huh. And knowing only made it so much worse. Whatever was tearing at her gut became even sharper. She was Izzy Flint. She just did what Izzy Flint did to her years ago. 

_It meant nothing, okay._

_It was a mistake._

She had broken the Doctor in the same way that she shattered in high school and it burned. Regret had never been so hot and all encompassing. She was overtook in it. Flames licking against her skin. This hurt.

More than lying to the Doctor, more than kissing the Doctor, more than needing the Doctor. This hurt so much.

_It meant nothing, okay._

_It was a mistake._

][

The night had passed slowly for her. She couldn’t find a way to distract herself from the anger and the self loathing. So she let it have at her. And even when she had felt less than ashes it still burned. And in some fucked up way she deserved it. 

But it didn’t matter now because she was going to do what Izzy Flint should have done. She was going to do what she should do. She was going to apologize and apologize and apologize until the wounds she had cut into the Doctor started to heal. 

Yaz walked, feet pounding louder in her head than in the corridor. Or that was her heart. Something was pounding in her head, filled her to the brink with adrenaline and fear and overwhelming guilt.

And she could turn around. She could turn back and not lead the Doctor on. She should turn around and not lead the Doctor on. 

_It meant nothing, okay._

_It was a mistake._

She kept going. Foot to floor, the pounding in her head, dull and overwhelming. The Doctor needed that apology. 

And there she was. The control room, a low red around her as the Doctor worked, unmoving, against the console. She seemed distracted, lost in her head.

“Doctor?” Her voice ventured out into the air around them and sounded so stale in the air. 

“Hmm?” The Doctor looked over her shoulder and stood up, “Oh, Yaz.” Her voice was a forced kind of excitement that pulled at Yaz and made the fire burn degrees hotter.

“Can we talk?”

“Eh, actually, I were just about to go lookin’ for somethin’ in the TARDIS, maybe later?” She offered a tight smile and half hearted shrug before pushing past the Doctor to make room for Yaz and the loathing that hissed and cracked against reddening skin. 

“Yeah.”

She wasn’t sure how long she stood just staring into space before falling to the ground and resting her head on her knees. Izzy Flint, 2.0, new and improved.

_It meant nothing, okay._

_It was a mistake._

She wasn’t sure how long she sat there before she started crying memories of the final year in school, the hardest most difficult years of her life playing through her mind back to back with everything that had happened in the last fifteen hours. Kissing the Doctor, kissing Izzy Flint, the school day, the running away, the _It was a mistake_ , and the _It meant nothing, okay_ and the pain that followed both of those events. And here she was.

Tears and pain and pain and she hated herself. She had hurt the Doctor. Lied to her. Hurt her and lied to her. And she hated that she did that. And she just wanted to tear herself apart and let the fire eat away at there too. Because she deserved it. 

“Stop that.”

She deserved it, she deserved it, she deserved it. Her fingers grasped at her forearms tighter and tighter until the pain from her nails were sharp but she didn’t have time to relish in it before a hand wrapped around her wrist and pulled her hands away from her forearms. 

She looked up, face damp and cold when revealed to the control room, to find the Doctor looking at her with deep creases and a frown. A real frown. “Stop.” Her voice was so light, barely a whisper, both worried and scared.

“What?” Yaz wanted to play it off, “The crying?”

“You know that’s not what I’m talking about.”

“You read my thoughts?”

“It wasn’t on purpose, Yaz.” The Doctor sighed and rubbed her forehead, “I could feel ‘em without even tryin’, just overwhelming self-loathing and I came rushing back, I’m sorry for brushin’ you off earlier, I didn’ realize you were struggling otherwise I wouldn’ta done that, I jus’, yesterday—” She sighed and shook her head, “I needed some space after yesterday. Rough mission, is all.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You’ve nothin’ to apologize for, Yaz.”

“I’m sorry I lied, Doctor.”

“Lied?”

“That kiss wasn’t a mistake, okay?” The Doctor opened her mouth and closed it before taking a seat next to Yaz, careful not to let her wrist go, whether it was for Yaz’s sake or hers she couldn’t tell but she didn’t care either way.

“Izzy flint bullied me, made my life living hell because I was—” She clenched her jaw, “We kissed and someone saw us and she told them that I, I,” Her voice gained in speed until she slowed and let herself calm, “She told them that I forced myself onto her.” She saw the Doctor’s face break, “That I was some predatory gay, a dyke trying to—” She let out a breath and let her head fall to her knees. “She told me that kissing me was a mistake. And the irony of it all is I don’t know if it _were_ a mistake but I’m not gay, am I? And I said the same thing that Izzy said to me and I hate myself—”

“Yaz, stop.” Her voice was wavering and when Yaz looked back up at her eyes were wet, “Please stop, okay?” Her grip on Yaz’s wrist got tighter and the Doctor probably didn’t even realize that she had done it, “You made a mistake. You hurt someone, you hurt,” She sighed and let her voice calm, “You hurt me but that doesn’t make you an awful person. You lied because of trauma, which doesn’ excuse it but it isn’ the same as lying to hurt someone or lying because you don’ care about the others feelings.

“You’re not a bad person and you shouldn’t hate yourself, gods, please don’t hate yourself.”

Yaz didn’t know what to say just bit her lip to hold back another wave of tears and found the Doctor’s wrist with her hand and squeezed it, hoping to convey something in place of the words that failed her. 


	2. Chapter 2

The mattress seemed to swallow her whole. It dipped and dipped and dipped and her muscles ached. Stress seemed to do that, make everything uncomfortable. Yaz sighed and shifted again, sheets rustling. It was met by the usual muttering from outside the door.

The Doctor had refused to leave her completely alone. She paced outside Yaz’s room, unable to sit still, every so often making just enough noise to define herself in Yaz’s awareness. 

Yaz hated that she was here. Hated that she had scared her enough to deem this necessary. Hated that she scared the Doctor, the one person she loved—

_ You’re not like that you. You don’t love her.  _

Right. Because she wasn’t… Yaz sighed. She was straight, right? Did she really like the Doctor like that? She couldn’t. She didn’t. She didn’t. But she enjoyed kissing the Doctor. But a kiss is just a kiss? The Doctor’s lips tasted like calm and assuredness for the first time in her life. Tasted perfect. But she wasn’t… like that. But when she was younger, when she had kissed guys, not that she had actually wanted to, but when it happened she felt nothing. Maybe she wasn’t like that but she just liked the Doctor. That was possible right? She was an alien, did she really affect Yaz’s sexuality? She wanted to kiss the Doctor. Wanted to pull the Doctor’s form, soft and curved and  _ feminine _ , close to her.

_ You’re not gay. _

She sighed. Something deep and long. Hoping that if her lungs emptied fully she would have finally expelled all of this… confusion. 

She should talk to someone about this, right? Couldn’t she? She could just work up the courage and go to a local Sheffield gay club alliance thing. Another sigh. She didn’t even know the name of what she was looking for, there was no way that it would be ‘Gay Club Alliance Thing’. 

_ You’re not gay, how would it help? _

She could listen in, right? She didn’t have to participate, could just say her best friend of sister or lover came out as gay—The Doctor wasn’t her lover. Why had she thought of the Doctor when she heard ‘lover’? None of this made sense. So someone she knew came out as gay… this was Sheffield. If anyone from her school was there then it would be a nightmare. They’d laugh at her. Out her—

_ Nothing to out. You’re not gay. _

Who else could she talk to though? It wasn’t like she knew any—

Graham. 

Graham was bi. She could talk to Graham. Couldn’t she? The Doctor already knows—

_ There’s nothing to know. _

If there was nothing to know, which there wasn’t, then she shouldn’t have a problem talking to Graham. Yeah. There was nothing to talk about. Not nothing but  _ nothing _ . She could do this. She could have this conversation. 

][

She couldn’t have this conversation. 

The breeze was fine, not too cold, just right for an early autumn afternoon. Her arms were crossed, not from the chill, but from the deep settling anxiety of it all. Flecks of up-tuned worry dotted her gut. 

What was she going to do? 

_ Hey, Graham. What does it mean to be gay? Am I gay? Is it gay to think of the Doctor like that? Diagnose me, please? _

She could turn around. She could turn, face away from the door and walk. Walk away from this. From all of this. Walk away from this question. Because it’s not a question. She isn’t like that. She could walk out and back to the TARDIS. 

With the Doctor. The Doctor. Crisp golden hair, bright smile, lively hazel eyes. Pink lips.

Hadn’t she, just a handful of days ago, defined intimacy by those lips? If she walked away right now whatever tense thread strung between the Doctor and her would be cut. The red string snapped and the distance between them became insurmountable. But if she stayed she could hold on tight, treat the chord like a tether, grip tight as it led her back to those lips, that intimacy, the Doctor. 

Yaz wrapped brown fingers tightly around the taut chord and pushed forward until her knuckles came down onto the wood. Blunt. Rough. Three resounding knocks filled the universe around her. Her knuckles rang with the aftertaste of her knocks as the door swung on its hinges. A squeak met with a gush of air to make way for grey hair and bright eyes.

“Yaz?”

“Graham.” Yaz mustered a smile, barely able to notice the joy surfacing in gut alongside her worries, the glittering nerves. She could do this. She could do this. 

“Yaz?” His eyebrows drew together, worry wearing deep in the creases on his face, he didn’t know what else to say, “Are you okay, is everything all right?”

“I, uh, can I come in?”

][

An hour dwindled away like nothing. There was so much to catch up on. 

Graham and Ryan visited her while the Doctor was gone, they offered support and comforted her but by the end of that year they’d become less and less reassuring and morphed into a painful reminder of what she had lost. She hadn’t meant to be rude but as time went on she just stopped responding to texts and the knocks on her door. The only people that populated her life at the end of that year were her family and she didn’t talk to them either. 

Yaz spent fifteen minutes apologizing for it, she didn't know what else to say. She had pushed away the only people in her life that understood what she was going through, hell, even knew what she was going through, and they were hurting too. Graham just shook his head and assured her over and over and over that she had nothing to apologize for, that she was going through a really rough time and that he didn’t hold it against her, wasn’t even upset at her for it. 

He also said that he was a little shocked to see her as it had only been a few days in his timeline since the Doctor had found her way back to Yaz. It had only been two months to him since Yaz had fully disconnected. He went on and on about how he was ecstatic to see her doing better. That he had really missed her smile. That Yaz looked so full of life and bright and happy. And that descriptor paused on his tongue. The complete contrast was so astounding and relieving but still it was a lot for him to process. 

But she couldn’t ignore the issue at hand forever. A cocktail of nerves and doubt swirled in her gut, searing into each wall. She couldn’t do this. But she had to. Red thread, right? She gripped it tight and sighed. 

She sat across from him at the dining room table, sipping at her tea before setting it down. The thud of the mug against the wood of the table taking all the energy out of the room and settling them down in silence. He’d talked about how he and Ryan spent the last two months, how they spent their time and how it led to Ryan finally going to school to become a mechanic. Yaz smiled brightly and shook her head, rattling off some excited sentence akin ‘to he’s finally doing it, eh?’. And Yaz returned the favor, recounting her days with the Doctor and she could feel his worry subside as time went on.

But as his weared away hers slowly grew, she could feel the worry swell in her gut, threatening to blow, to expand and spill out until the ravenous wreckage of her attraction—

_ potential. unlikely. not an attraction. _

Her… whatever it was. The silence was deafening and the hollow of her gut felt twisted. She swallowed, closed her eyes, and let her jaw drop, “I think I might like women but what if I don’t and I don’t want to lead the Doctor on but I think I like her but what if I don’t?” Her chest expanded and collapsed rapidly, the ferocity of her anxiety exquisite and it only fueled her drive to find some sort of solace. She let out a sigh of relief but it hid in the shadow of her apprehension.

“Yaz?” Graham said after a breath. He had paused hoping that Yaz would take the lead but it looked like she had no intention of furthering the conversation he continued. “Hey, it’s okay, love. I accept you, whether or not you end up likin’ women or not, yeah? And I’ll support you too. Okay?”

Yaz sighed and urged herself to meet his face. She nodded, a barely there movement and wrung her hands together. 

“You’re okay, Yaz.”

“Yeah.” She nodded against and swallowed her nerves until they receded. “I just,” She sighed again and closed her eyes. “I know that I like kissin’ women an’ all but that doesn’t mean I’m…” She shook her head. 

“Ahh,” Graham nodded. He crossed his arms and leaned back further in his chair. “I know what you’re going through, yeah? I dealt with it back in the eighties a lot.” He sighed. “Fell for one of the men who always took my route,” Graham sighed and shook his head, “And, god, he was handsome, an’ funny, an’,” He trailed off, smile replacing words as he seemed to reminisce on it. 

“An’ well, I tried to swallow it an’ ignore it, thought everyone would judge me for it, y’know? Here was this amazin’ guy and all I could do was stew on these feelings when they should have been somethin’ fun. In the end I just said screw that jazz, it isn’t a switch, right, but like, I just up an’ said one day that I wasn’t gonna feel like that.” Graham offered her a smile, “See, Yaz, it’s a choice, it’s a choice y’have to make ever day of your life until y’realize that y’don’t feel that way anymore. It’s something you have to work on and work on until one day y’wake up and y’find there’s nothing  _ left _ to work on. 

“It ain’t easy, I’ll tell you that, but you’re the strongest person I know, an’ if anyone’s capable of doin’ it, it’s you.”

][

Yaz sat on one of the hexagonal steps in the control room, hands planted in the metal as she leaned into them. She listened and watched as the Doctor stretched out across the floor beneath the control panel and worked on something that had sounded like a jumble of syllables she had just made up off the top of her head, in Yaz’s opinion. 

The rest of her visit with Graham had been spent playing cards, Graham was a deceptively talented poker player and Yaz would have lost a few quid if Graham had played honorably. After Yaz refused to take her money back he slipped his winnings back into her jacket pocket when they hugged and she hadn't noticed until too late.

She promised him a visit soon, that she’d drop around sometime if the Doctor didn’t get them lost in space. It was nice. Nice to see him again. Nice to get out of the TARDIS. Nice to know that she wasn’t the only one in the entire world who had gone through this. Nice to remember that there was at least someone out there who she could still open up and relate to. 

The Doctor mumbled something off and brought Yaz’s mind back to the present. Right, she let out a small sigh, the Doctor. She looked over at her and something thick throbbed in her chest. It could be love.

_ You’re not like that. _

Choices.

Maybe she wasn’t like that. Maybe she was. Would it be the end of the world if she did, in fact, like the Doctor, like women, like that? Probably not. Definitely not. She liked kissing the Doctor. She knew that. She knew that she wanted to slot their bodies together in a hug to see if they were like puzzle pieces to each other. She knew that the red line was nothing but a chord that led her back to her. She knew that she wanted to follow it. So maybe she did. She would let herself feel that. She would.

She could do this.

She ran a hand through her hair, a soothing and familiar feeling to keep her calm. There was a clang and it drew Yaz from her mind back to the present. It helped, to get out of her head, to be grounded in the moment. 

She looked over to the Doctor, she was shimmying about as she tried to pick up whatever she had dropped. Thin, blue-draped, legs kicked wildly into the air before spreading apart and Yaz couldn’t help the way her eyes were drawn to the apex of her thighs. She bit her lip and looked away. 

That definitely wasn’t straight. 

Or was it?

Then she looked back, her mind jumping before she could catch it to try and imagine what was beneath the culottes. She shook her head and looked away. 

Definitely not straight.

][

The months flew by without hesitation. Down time whittled away to make room for an increasing frequency of trips and adventures. They were left with rare fleeting moments. Most of which were consumed by the Doctor checking in on Yaz, making sure that she was taking care of herself, and to remind her that she was always there if Yaz needed an ear or a shoulder. 

Her reassurances were stilted, awkward almost. Very the Doctor of her. Yaz found it endearing, more so than ever before. That awkward charm had burrowed deep to her core and exacerbated the attraction she found harder and harder to deny. And Yaz smiled when she found that her doubt had weathered away down to this small, nearly inconceivable thing. Choices.

Graham had been right. Choices.

Graham had also tried to assist her on the day to day struggle, and in doing so had educated himself on millennial culture. Which meant that every morning (for him, it was just incredibly random for Yaz) he would send her pride memes. The fact that Ryan had tried to indoctrinate Graham with meme culture was more than enough to make her chuckle. And the meme was enough to remind her of the choice she needed to make. And she would make it.

It was a small change, of course, slowly but surely the attraction became easier and easier to wrap her mind around, slowly it became easier to grip the red line with assuredness and follow after it. She thought she was making progress on that, the chord seemed shorter than before.

She sighed and rubbed her eyes. Arms careened over head to stretch and she let out a yawn. Today felt good. It was going to be good. She pushed herself up until she was sitting and reached for her phone. 

_ Graham: I’m proud of you! photo54329087198.png _

She smiled and clicked open the message to reveal a picture of Sophia from Golden Girls with the caption “So she likes girls and not guys. Some people like cats and not dogs. Frankly, I’d rather live with a lesbian than a cat.” The background was a wheel of red and orange pinstripes and Yaz could do nothing but shake her head at the proper old meme.

She set the phone back down on the nightstand and took to her feet, stretching her arms up and over her head. She yawned one last time and turned to face her closet. As she made her way over a red bikini burned its presence into her vision. 

Hmm. She hummed as she lightly pinched the deep red fabric between two fingers. It was hanging off a hook on the door and she would have sworn that this wasn’t there the day before. In fact, she was willing to bet she hadn’t seen this in a long time. But then, she had been thinking about going for a swim the night before, perhaps the TARDIS was trying to be helpful.

Yaz sent an apprehensive look to the ceiling, eyebrow cocked, “What are you up to?” She murmured, but otherwise put it out of her head. She picked it off the hook and took it over to her conjoined restroom. 

Fifteen minutes later she had finally made it to the pool, it was a luxurious thing, high metal arches with intricate carvings, lights a hearty mix of deep purple and light red. It was beautiful. The pool was lined with dark tiles, dotted by dull lights. It was one of her favorite places to go. 

And the view only got better. There, sat on the side of the pool, was the Doctor, hips hugged by a deep blue fabric, lower back bared and upper back wrapped by the same color. The Doctor was wearing a bikini. 

_ Fuck. _ She sent a sharp glare toward the ceiling, hoping that the TARDIS was privy to exactly what she had meant by that look. She bit her lip and took a deep breath. Here the Doctor was, skin on display, nearly nothing left up to the design of her imagination, in a bikini. 

_ Fuck. _ She shook away her torrid thoughts and padded across the warm tiles. She laid her towel across a lounger which formed the last barricade between her and the Doctor. Her hands weren’t empty though. 

Red thread.

She took in a breath between hardly parted teeth and closed the distance between them. The Doctor looked up to her and Yaz smiled before clambering down beside her. 

“Hey,” Yaz breathed.

“Hey.” The Doctor returned her smile.

“That’s new.” She gestured to her top, which dived deeper than either were expecting it to. Yaz couldn’t help the way she followed her gesture, to find the delicious swell of her chest before snapping her gaze forward. 

“Yeah,” The Doctor nodded. It seemed like she hadn’t noticed just where Yaz’s attention had just been and Yaz was relieved. She looked back to see the Doctor pinch at the fabric and scowl, “The TARDIS recommended it to me,” She shook her head, “I say recommended, more like, refused to get me my regular swimming suit.”

Yaz felt her nearly discarded irritation burn a reminder into her. So, the TARDIS was just messing with both of them. Or Yaz. Probably just Yaz. “Oh.” 

“Yeah, I mean, it looks nice I s’pose, it’s just…” She paused to think, “It’s not very supportive.” She looked down to her chest and Yaz’s eyes went wide, she wanted to follow her gaze but looked back out to the water. Some reasonable part of her told her that it wasn’t polite to be eyeing up your mates' tits. And then she shook her head, realizing that she had just used ‘tits’ in relation to the Doctor and called the Doctor’s breasts ‘tits’.  _ Fuck.  _

She could feel her heart beating a mile a second, her heart thrumming a ferocious plea for relief against her rib cage. She needed to get a grip. Focus on the present. The present. Right. By the swimming pool. In a bikini. With the Doctor. Who was also in a bikini. And it was warm. It always was but this time it felt different. The heat almost more intense, somehow.

She looked over to the Doctor only to meet a pair of sharp hazel eyes. The Doctor had been looking at her. Waiting for her. The gaze was intense. Strong. And then Yaz’s eyes flickered downward, some uncontrollable urge to find those startlingly soft pink lips. And then she was back to looking in the Doctor’s eyes. 

That which was immaterial faded to nothing, which left nothing but the Doctor. The only universe in that moment—in every other moment because existence was arbitrary if not for that universe, the one that they built in each exchange and solidified in this moment. Yaz didn’t want a TARDIS or a vehicle of any sorts, her own body, she supposed, too, if it wouldn’t allow her to explore that ever expanding everything between them. 

The red line had led her back to intimacy.

Their lips crashed in the inches between them, in the worlds and galaxies of unspoken desire between them, and it was beautiful and chaotic and undesigned and yet still worth so much more than the machine that housed them. 

Yaz kissed the Doctor with all the desire that had been coursing through her veins, she let that desire wage it’s war on any god-damned doubt that had even thought of gracing the pit of her stomach. The desire burned brightly and turned weeds and thorny bushes to ash until she was left with room for something else to grow. The red twine had given her a spark of life, some seed, and it was more important than any sort of pathetic weed that attempted to there. 

And then Yaz was moving back. Grasping for breath, as she ran a hand through her hair. She could feel the heat of the Doctor’s breath as it caressed her skin. The sound of the soft inhale and exhale mixed perfectly with the bombastic rhythm her heart danced out in her ears. She took another breath before finally letting her eyes fall open to find that the Doctor’s hadn’t closed, worry and pain had caramelized onto her face in a grimace. Her eyes were heavy.

“Doctor?”

The Doctor took in a deep breath before closing her eyes, “Yaz, please tell me this is real, ‘cause I can’t do that again, I really can’t.” She pinched her bottom lip between two teeth and sighed. 

Her heart clenched, stomach twisting in a way that finally enunciated it for her. She’d hurt the Doctor. And she felt it like it was an attack on her own being. And she never wanted to do anything like that ever again. She loved her far too much to handle the thought of hurting her. She loved her. “It’s real, Doctor, it’s real, so real. I promise, more than anythin’ that I need you and if nothin’ else, I believe in you, and, gods, I really need you so much.”

The Doctor’s eyes were hopeful, worried but hopeful, “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” The Doctor didn’t respond to the breathed utterance, just placed her index finger beneath Yaz’s chin to lead her face back to her own. Lips met lips slowly. Passionately. They moved with desire, yes, but with confession. The soft flesh danced to the beat of their hearts and whatever had been building between them, whatever had kept them together, a universe, red thread, imploded and their desire and need and desperation and love and love and love spilled out. 

And then Yaz could feel the Doctor’s voice, barely there, ghost against her mind like her lips did on hers,  _ I need you too, Yaz, so much, much more than I’ve ever needed anything before. _

][

The Doctor was still fizzing by what Yaz had deemed dinner time. She’d barely been able to slow down long enough to change out of her swimming suit, let alone calm down by any practical measure. And yet, Yaz couldn’t judge. Didn’t want to judge, it was endearing and she’d been acting the same exact way. 

“Yaz?” The Doctor’s voice was colored with a jittery lilt, hands twitching and playing with her chopsticks, never making an attempt to eat anything. 

“Yeah?” She looked up from her food, to the other side of the table where the Doctor was sitting. 

“I, uh, d’you wanna talk about this?” She swallowed and then opened her mouth, “Us, do you want to talk about us, I mean?” Her words were clumsy, as had been everything in throughout the day. Their expressions of affection were graceless, the collisions while walking too close were thoughtless, and the bumping of their noses while attempting to kiss had been haphazardous. But it was all... perfect. Drenched in spasmistic excitement they couldn’t help the uncoordination. 

Yaz looked away from the Doctor and relaxed a bit further in her seat. “I, uh, we probably should, sooner rather than later, right?”

“Yeah, I thought so.” 

“Yeah.” Yaz swallowed and stuck her chopsticks deep within the mound of lo mein on her plate and looked up. “What exactly do we talk about?” This was unexplored territory for her. She’d never really had a date before. Probably had something to do with the whole being-in-gay-and-in-denial thing. Oh. She’d just called herself gay. Was she gay?

“Dunno.” The Doctor sighed and brought Yaz from her head. It doesn’t matter if she’s gay she likes kissing the Doctor. She wants to be with the Doctor. And that’s okay. “I guess the first thing we should think ‘bout is what are we?”

“Are we dating?”

“Not technically, at least according to human traditions anyway. You haven’t asked me out yet, or I haven’t you, either way not human dating.” The Doctor pointed out. “But it’s a little different in Time Lord culture.”

“Yeah?” That caught Yaz’s attention, her eyebrows raised. She only knew so much about the Doctor’s people and she wanted to know more, as long as, of course, it was okay with the Doctor. She leaned forward. 

“Yeah, if we wanted to follow Time Lord tradition we’d have to merge all resources and form a political alliance. Typically romance and sex aren’t common and are really up to the discretion of each couple.”

“And, would they be common in ours?”

“Of course, I love a good romance.” The Doctor smiled, “Oh, you meant the sex thing—”

“I was just kiddin’, Doctor, we can talk about sex, later, only if you’re comfortable, of course.”

“Okay.”

“How attached to Time Lord culture are you?” 

“Not at all.”

“Okay,” Yaz let out a sigh of relief, “What do we want to do then? Go on a date? What are we even calling this?”

“I like you.” 

“Yeah, I got that when you were kissin’ me.”

“Shut up.” The Doctor sent her a playful scowl before it split into a wide smile, “And, I don’t know.” She sighed and the smile fell away, “I want to be with you, of course, but you, well, I don’t want to if this is going to bring stuff up from Izzy and hurt you. I don’t want to hurt you, or pressure you, or make you uncomfortable.”

“You won’t, Doctor.” Yaz sighed and bit her lip before starting to talk again, “I have somethin’ called internalized homophobia, which just basically makes it difficult for me to trust that I might be… to trust that I’m gay. That’s where it all came from but I’m doin’ a lot better now.”

“An’ I don’ want ta make that worse for you.”

“Doctor, I really am doing better, promise. I talked to Graham and he’s been helping me, that’s one of the reasons I go to visit him so often now, that an’ I miss him like crazy.” She met her gaze and reached out until her hand was on top of the Doctors. “‘Sides, you’ve done nothing but help me, actually, anytime I start to doubt it I just look at you an’... Doctor, you’re more real to me than anything else in this world and you make me forget I were doubtin’ myself in the first place.” 

“Promise?”

“Always.” The Doctor turned her hand palm up so that she could link fingers with Yaz.

“Can you promise me another thing, too?”

“What?”

“Promise me that you’ll tell me if it gets too much for you, okay?”

“Promise.”

“I’ll hold you to that, Khan.” 

“Wouldn’t expect nothin’ less.” Yaz reversed their hands until she could see the back of the Doctor’s and leaned down to leave a kiss on the Doctor’s knuckles. 

“All that leaves is one question.”

“Yeah?”

“What are we? Girlfriend, alienfriend?”

“I’m not callin’ you ‘alienfriend’, Doctor.”

“Fine, girlfriend, girlfriend?”

“I don’t know, that depends.”

“On what?”

“Will you be my girlfriend, Doctor?” 

“Yasmin Khan, yes, for all the stars in the sky, I will, of course, be your girlfriend.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come yell at me on tumblr: nonbinaryriotchild


	3. Chapter 3

Yaz dove beneath the surface of the water. It was cool, not too cold but not too warm, pleasant, as she sliced through it. The silence, the bubble beneath the waves gave her the perfect chance to think.

It had only been a day so she hadn’t had time to digest the information. She was too excited to think about it reasonably the night before, and hadn't gotten any sleep either. It didn’t help that last night had been her first night sleeping without the Doctor by her side. The Doctor didn’t want to make her uncomfortable or push her too far so she sat outside the room for the night, no doubt fiddling with some gadget. 

So, her and the Doctor were together. Together together. It was amazing. Perfect. The climax of rather long build up. She couldn’t believe it. Her life felt somehow whole after years and years of shattered memories and full bodied loneliness. It was like the Doctor was the final puzzle piece to her confusing soul and it—it was perfect. Yaz loved the Doctor. Completely wholeheartedly. And they were together. She broke through the surface to air with a bright smile. 

She looked over to where the Doctor had been lounging, or “light-bathing” as she called it, on the side of the pool. She’d dressed herself back in her usual one piece and more than likely had fallen asleep at one point. 

That must’ve been the first time she’d fallen asleep in awhile. She deserved time to relax. They both did. The tension that built between them was taxing and the effects of it showed. 

She smiled at her girlfriend— _ girlfriend. _ The word felt foreign and yet so right. As if it had been forming on her tongue for years now and she’d just never realized it. She liked the way it tasted. 

She took one last deep breath, chest expanding wildly before she melted beneath the waves once more. This was less of a push against the liquid, a fight for distance, but a more relaxed travel. Relaxed. She deserved it. She and the Doctor were finally together and there was nothing anyone could do to stop it. 

She floated in water or bliss or something, she couldn’t differentiate between the cool luxury of unadulterated joy and the warming pressure delivered by the water. Life seemed to build until this moment. Never had she known a place called home, a place she felt comfortable naming her home. And she found that nestled beside the Doctor. 

She supposed she had always felt it. A buzzing belonging since the fateful night when the Doctor crashed into her life in Sheffield. A belonging she denied as she had never known it before then. But hours turned to years and whatever that belonging was merged to affection, to the feeling of home.

They were together now. Yaz smiled, the water molding to that curved happiness and she began to run out of oxygen, lungs screaming for air, she pushed her body up past the brilliant surface into the dim but beautiful glowing light of the room. She took in deep breaths of air, hand combing through the sopping mess upon her head until it was pushed away from her face. 

It unveiled the Doctor’s hazel eyes turned upon her, face creased in contentment. Happiness. She must’ve just closed her eyes. Yaz realized it was foolish to expect rest from her. Who knew how much she needed? 

And then the glimpse of hazel from across the room was gone, hidden by the turn of a head and a change of pale to pink. Yaz scrunched her face, narrowing her eyes in some mix between worry and trepidation at what was to come.

The deep inhale of a nervous breath flowed through her until she felt ready to dive beneath the surface once more. This time it was not filled with quiet reflection, with contented excitement, but nerves that ate away at the pit of her stomach. 

_ The Doctor finally realized exactly what you’re doing to her. You can’t like her and you’re leading her on. You’re not gay. _

She tried to shake her head, dislodge the uncomfortable and false, because it was false, right?, thought from her head, but it slowed her progress through the water, making the distance between her and the Doctor feel infinite. 

And then she was there. Arms crossed alongside the lip of the pool only ten feet from the Doctor. “Hey.”

“Oh, hi, Yaz.” Her voice was pulled tight, a way that tugged on something in Yaz’s gut. 

_ She knows. _

Her finger was rubbing against the rough tile, letting the fine grains drag against the pad of her index finger. Painful. Penance. She had fucked up, hurt the Doctor and indulged on impulse. 

“Is everythin’ alright?” Her voice was closer than it was before and when Yaz looked up to figure out how that was, she found the Doctor kneeling in front of her. Pale hands covered the cold brown ones, squeezed them, and pulled them away from the tiles. 

The heat from her fingers seeped into Yaz. Nestled itself deep within the hollow of her stomach. This was alright. She was alright. The Doctor was here. Her care, tangible. She wasn’t upset. 

Yaz clutched back, found the deep eyes swimming with worry and looked away. She sighed, “I were gonna ask you that.”

“What? If I were alright?” The confusion drew lines across her face and—

_ She’s only lying. She doesn’t want to hurt you the way you hurt her.  _

Yaz bit her lip, lightly, not to break skin, just to ground herself in the moment. She held her eyes closed as the words formed on the tip of her tongue before even spawning in her mind, “I saw you look away when I looked at you and, I don’ know, I’m worried that I hurt you and I don’t know how I could’ve but I wouldn’t be shocked. I, I mean, these emotions, what I feel when I look at you is real, so bloody real, but sometimes doubt just comes seepin’ in and what if these emotions aren’t real? And yet, I look at you and know they are. But what if they’re not. I don’t want to lead you on. I don’t want to hurt you again.”

“Yaz, look at me.” Yaz wants to shake her head, wants to sink back into the water. But she didn’t. Didn’t refuse, didn’t run away. Insurmountable, that’s what opening her eyes felt like, insurmountable. Heavy with shame and worry. But she chose to anyway. And there was the Doctor. Her Doctor. The Doctor and her brilliant eyes. And something akin to relief pooled in the bottom of her stomach, waterlogging whatever dark voice had lodged itself there. 

“We’re taking this slow, yeah? I looked away because I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, I didn’t want to be too open with my feelings in the case that it would hurt you, okay? But listen to me. If this is too much, we can pause or we can stop. Or we can do anything, anything as long as you’re happy. And it’s okay to feel doubt, yeah? Emotions are emotions, whether we like ‘em or not. Sometimes, we have to take an emotion for what it is, an anomaly.

“It’s okay, you know, it’s okay to be unsure or worried, but jus’ know that regardless of what you feel, what you  _ need _ I am always right here beside you, yeah? I’m here for you. You might hurt me, but it is so unsubstantial if that means you’re not putting yourself in an unhealthy position.”

Yaz nodded, swallowed deeply, and nodded, eyes trained on the Doctor’s. Her hands never left hers and the warmth was great. This was her Doctor. The one she’d fallen so desperately in love with.

Because it was love. It was love. It was love. And she let it permeate her bones and fill her. Anchor her. 

There was a shift, a move and Yaz feared the worst, a loss of connection but their hands never left, and slowly, the water rippled beside her as the Doctor dipped into the pool. Their hands were still entwined.

“Now, we can talk ‘bout it whenever you want, but first, lets get your mind out of the spiral, okay?” 

Yaz nodded, migrating closer to the woman—she was nearly shivering—wrapped her arms around her waist and held her close. How did the Doctor get so good at dealing with this? Talking about emotion? Handling emotion? It seemed that whatever caused the Doctor to let Yaz in had the unexpected affect, or a prerequisite, of acknowledging her own feelings.

The Doctor led Yaz on laps, keeping the distance Yaz stipulated, in relative silence. Yaz would talk if she wanted to but at the moment she didn’t want to. 

She just focused on the way the water slid across her skin, the way that their contact electrified her, the way that the dim lighting of the sleek room was someone still open and inviting. Homely. Comfortable. Or maybe, the Doctor lent that quality to every where she touched. Either way, comfort glazed over the wound of that spiral and protected it from further damage.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry.”

“No, but I am. All I did were ruin the trust you have in my feelin’s. I coulda ruined the relationship.” 

“Yaz, if I were to take to heart everythin’ that people have said to me in a panicked state, gods, if I listened to everythin’  _ I’ve _ said in a panicked state I wouldn’t be alive right now. We all spiral from time to time. You’re okay. I’m not upset at you, defo not upset at you, I could never be upset at Yaz.” 

“I am.”

“You should never be upset at Yaz, either.” 

Yaz didn’t say anything in response, wasn’t sure what to say, so she shifted her focus back to the way that she sliced through the water. The way that her floating made her seem free and how it mixed oh, so well with the grounding effect of the Doctor’s warm body against her side. She could get lost in that moment.

She did get lost in that moment. The softness of the Doctor’s skin, the glide of the water. Minutes turned to hours in the silence of their floating embrace and it was the most calming thing that Yaz had ever encountered. 

And then the Doctor’s sweet voice curled around the warm air and into her, “How do I help you when that happens again?” It was soft around the edges, hesitant, “I want to help you, not make it worse or leave you to deal with it alone.” 

“Just stay with me, Doctor, it’s so much easier when you’re here.”

“Yeah? I don’ make it worse?” 

“Doctor, you couldn’t make it worse if you tried. I see you, I feel you next to me, and it’s like, it’s like I know you’re going to be okay. I’m going to be okay. It’s like you make it so much better in an almost unbelievably painful way, I see you and, I don’t know.” 

“Yasmin Khan, you sure have a way with words,” The Doctor’s voice took a faux dreamy quality. 

“Push off, I’m tryin’ to be serious here,” She chuckled and shook her head, giving the Doctor a nudge on her shoulder.

“Always serious, I am.” 

“Yeah, says the girl who were ‘light-bathing’.” The smile that came to Yaz’s face was so relaxed, real. It was almost unrealistic. 

“There are special particles in the light rays that are really good at keepin’ eyes nice and healthy, Yaz, perfectly good and natural.”

“Are you tellin’ me you were starin’ at the light?” Yaz tried to sigh her exasperation but it came out more humored. 

“How else would I use ‘em?” 

“No wonder you can’t fly the TARDIS, you’re practically blind from burning your retinas.” The Doctor’s face carved into a hurt expression, mouth falling open in mock hurt.

“It’s not my fault she’s stubborn and doesn’t know how to—” The ship groaned and the water in the pool started to rock back and forth. “Hey, hey, hey!” The Doctor yelled toward the ceiling, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, you know I love you. You’re perfect, the best TARDIS ever, yeah? I’m sorry.”

There was a begrudging hum but the water settled back down. The Doctor sighed and ran a hand through her sopped hair with a groan. “Oh, come on, I didn’t want to get wet.”

“You’re in the pool.”

“I know, a nice small swim is alright, but fully drenched?” She shook her head, “Like a cat, I am.” 

“You’re wearing a swimming suit.” Yaz gestured at her with a sigh of disbelief. 

“I’m wearin’ it for the light-bathin’, Yaz.” 

Yaz sighed, head falling back with a smile and a sigh, “You’re weird.”

“I’m your weird.” The Doctor’s eyebrows jumped. 

“Dork.” Yaz shook her head and met the Doctor’s eyes, hazel, gleaming in the light. And the world came to a slow stop. A painfully slow stop. Their eyes were trained on each other, still pressed against each other, now chest to chest, the heat of their embrace enough to comfort Yaz for the rest of her days.

“Oh,” The Doctor sighed, quietly. Her breath was defined, warm on Yaz’s lips, the sweet moisture clinging to Yaz’s skin. And that was all it took for the moment to lose it’s still quality, Yaz leaned forward and the Doctor met her halfway as lips danced on lips. Their soft flesh gentle, soft pink caressing earthy brown, and there was something about the love that flowed between them so honestly, so beautifully. 

Every interaction had been steeped with this love, rich in it. It coated their world, thick as if it were the only thing that mattered. The feeling of drowning in love was such a strange affliction, Yaz would sell every star in the sky for only milliseconds of it. 

They broke apart, heads knocking together softly as they let their foreheads find each other. “This,” Yaz sighed, through shallow, needy breaths. The Doctor hummed her questioning response, “This is all I ever need for you to help me through it. Nothin’ could overwhelm me when you’re here.” 

“Then you have me.”

][

With every pass she made the closet seemed to get bigger, seemed to restock with an entirely new wardrobe, and seemed to shift the order of the hung clothes. It was becoming overwhelming. Her first option soon lost itself into the sea of clothes, never to be seen again, the second option had no matching shoes, and the third wasn’t really an option because as soon as Yaz looked back for it, it had disappeared. 

She trudged up and down that long closet for hours upon hours, until she was sure she was here longer than the TARDIS had been alive. Of course, they wouldn’t be late, it was a time machine but she’d still keep the Doctor waiting. The Doctor would no longer  _ want _ to go on the date by the time she was done.

Her stomach twisted and churned and spat confusion and fire until—

_ You don’t even like her anyway. Why bother to care? You didn’t care enough to put her needs over this fun little game of yours, so why now? _

What a cruel voice. Something so malicious, it’s words curled around the edges in a sinister reimagining of smooth. It sliced at her body, trying to extract that the Doctor her heart with thick, jagged slices. Nothing precise enough to remove it. She loved the Doctor. She did. She loved the Doctor and she loved the Doctor. 

And her breathing slowed, something she hadn’t realized had sped up in the first place, she loved the Doctor. That love was strong and sure and important and concentrated, concentrated enough to dilute the thick, dark sludge that pooled in her gut. Enough to soften it, to wear away at it’s integrity. Enough to choose the difficult work of scraping that sludge off, clean from that love. Because she loved the Doctor and she loved the Doctor and she loved the Doctor. And she’d rather have that. Rather have that than whatever had fucking lodged itself in her gut. And span it’s lies. 

“Yaz?” The Doctor’s voice was muffled from the wooden door between them. The Doctor. That was her voice. The Doctor’s perfect, beautiful voice, the voice that was etched onto the walls of her heart’s cage, each pitch, each inflection carved into the bones of her ribs, an echo chamber for the Doctor’s voice of which she never wanted to lose, an echo chamber for their love and Yaz could get lost in each reflection of each perfect call. Yaz focused on that. Because it was so much easier to think of that voice, the Doctor’s voice than to fight that doubt alone. “Yaz is everythin’ alright?” She knocked this time and Yaz felt them rustle through her. 

“Come in.” It was the only thing she could breathe out of her lungs. There was the sound of a heavy door on old hinges, a piercing noise and then the Doctor was there. She stumbled over to Yaz.

“Hey?” Her voice was a soft reassurance, barely curling around the air, waiting for Yaz to take the lead. Yaz sighed at it, let some of the tension melt from her chest.

Yaz clenched her eyes shut, tight enough for the veins to web along the inside of her eyelids and she struggled but finally plucked a single word from the ruins of her doubt-torn mind, “Hey.” Her voice was rough, a degree harsher than she was expecting.

“You’re okay,” The Doctor said, “I’m ‘ere, I’m ‘ere and it’s all goin’ to be okay, yeah?” 

Yaz nodded and let her eyes fall open, searching for the Doctor’s until she could get lost in that hazel. And there was more relief there, seeping into her veins, enough to take her the final bit away from the dread and the chaos of that spiral. 

“Yaz, if the date’s too much, we don’t ‘ave to go, okay? I don’ care what we’re doin’ as long as it’s me ‘n you and you’re happy with it.”

The date. The anxiety spiked in her chest. She had ruined the date. And the tears pricked at the corner of her eyes. 

“Hey,” Her voice took on a sad lilt. She reached a hand out towards Yaz’s shoulder but let it fall, “It’s okay to cry, o’ course, but you’ve done nothin’ wrong. Trust me, I wouldn’ lie.”

“You were so excited for the date.” And there the tears started to drip onto her cheeks, warming up the cool skin. 

“No, I weren’t. I were excited for more time with you.” The Doctor’s hand found Yaz’s, lightly tapping its presence just below the knuckle and Yaz turned her hand immediately to lace their fingers together, the Doctor’s cold fingers warming between Yaz’s always warm ones. “I don’ care what I’m doin’, where I am, or anythin’ as long as it’s you ‘n me, okay?” 

Yaz found her eyes again and squeezed the Doctor’s hand, an unsteady breath swimming in between her lips, “Okay.”

][

They sat together on the couch, some soft music playing in the background, Yaz bracketed by the Doctor’s arms and thighs. She leaned back into her and her head rested down against the Doctor’s shoulder. The Doctor had let her cheek rest against Yaz’s.

The Doctor pulled her arms tight for a second, just long enough to pull Yaz into her and let their bodies meld comfortably against each other. “‘S nice.”

“Yeah.” Yaz sighed. She could have stayed like that for years. She probably had, time meant nothing in this ship, afterall. Nothing filled their time but the slow breathing of her and the Doctor, the soft rise and fall of their chests. 

They’d come so far to get here. From Gallifrey, through hell, and depression, and healing, and now here. Here, melded against the Doctor’s body, here.

These moments, the moments where love ebbed and flowed between them, made choice seem impossible. How could she choose anything but this? Anything but the Doctor’s body pressed into hers. There was something so painfully brilliant about cultivating such a vulnerable crop and watching it’s growth. This fruit of their love was sweeter with each passing second, and Yaz would drink the nectar until it stained her skin. 

Because she loved the Doctor. She loved the Doctor and loved the way their bodies fit together as if there was no other option but to put them together, as if this was the only option for either of them. As if the universe had crafted the Doctor’s body upon regeneration that fateful night with the sole purpose of having it up against Yaz. As if the universe knew that their bonding would be the most fertile exchange. 

And it was perfect.

][

Yaz in a form fitting red dress and the Doctor in crisp tux with a red button up and black tie. They ate with their hands laced together on top of the table between them. It was their first date out of the TARDIS, not that you could consider those dates, but Yaz did. 

They’d found nice ways to spend their time, remixes upon the old, playing MarioKart with the winner getting a kiss, watching a movie while spooning, kissing goodnight before the Doctor inevitably left her room to sit outside it. The Doctor hadn't wanted to pressure her or send mixed signals or do anything in the general sphere to make her uncomfortable. So she sat outside her room in the night. 

But this was different. Getting all dressed up and going somewhere. Publicly declaring their love. Or, publicly whispering it, it was still a tad worrisome for Yaz, but she could do this. Because she wanted to do this. She really did. 

“You likin’ your food?” The Doctor asked after finishing off her last bite. She took a sip from the wine glass sitting in front of her. It contained apple juice.

“Yeah.” Yaz smiled up at her. “I gotta say, Doctor, sometimes when you say things like ‘space octopus’ I get really concerned about that tongue of yours but you were right. This is,” She paused to take another bite, “Delicious.”

“Yeah, I told you!”

“You did, yeah, but the last time you ‘told me’ ended with me in tears because it was too salty.”

“Oh, shut up,” The Doctor shook her head, “There wasn’t nearly enough salt in that dish.”

“Your tongue must hate you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I wonder how it feels about you.”

Yaz couldn’t help the way her face burned, it was so hot, and it didn’t help that the Doctor  _ just so happened _ to lick her lips at that moment. She felt a swell of something, an inferno of affection and heat in her stomach and that was it. Whatever was left of her doubt faded away to nothing beneath the strength of their gravity. 

“Hmm, we might never know,” Yaz’s eyebrows jumped a bit, a little playful teasing before, “If you keep eating like that.” Her tone fell flat and she leveled the Doctor with a stare.

“What, I brush my teeth!” She sounded indignant but the cocked eyebrow on Yaz’s face brought a, “Okay fine, but I ‘ave nanites that keep ‘em clean.”

“What have I been kissin’, Doctor?” 

“Nothing.” The Doctor let go of Yaz’s hand and threw hers up to calm Yaz down before realizing what she said, “I mean, me, obviously, me yeah, me but nothing else.”

“Yeah?”

“The nanites are a once a day thing,” The Doctor explained, reaching back for Yaz’s hand, Yaz gave it, but her other hand stayed just as animated, “And they don’t even taste like mint, why would anyone make a paste that tastes like mint?” She shook her head and shuddered. “Disgusting.”

“Mint’s perfectly fine if you’re not a baby.”

“Hey,” The Doctor drew out the syllable as it took on a whiny tone. 

“My point exactly.”

The Doctor pouted a bit, before nodding to the Yaz’s plate, “You done?”

“Yeah, kinda have to be, the food’s all gone.”

“We can order more, if you like.”

“I’m full.”

“Okay, good.” The Doctor got up, working around the table so that she was standing by Yaz’s side, hand in hand, “Would you care to follow me, madam?”

Yaz grinned and left a kiss on the back of the Doctor’s knuckles, “After you, my dear sir.” She stood up and followed after the Doctor. 

They swirled through other restaurant-goers, out a door and onto a balcony. A balcony in space. A balcony in space that looked like it had no protection from the vast nothingness around them.

“Whoah.” Yaz’s voice was barely there at that point, barely focused on anything other than how she felt a part of space herself, infinitely different from the first time she’d been like this with the Doctor. She looked back to find that there was nothing but a small glowing white square where the door used to be.

“What’s—”

“It’s a visual field, low-level psychic thing, we have a force field around us and the ship near us. We’re safe.” She fumbled around her tuxedo pocket for something before pulling out her sonic screwdriver. She pointed it towards the white box and it whirled and then soft music filled the air around them.

“Care for a dance, m’lady?” The Doctor smiled.

Yaz returned it and faced the Doctor, wrapping her arms around her waist and leaning into her. The Doctor wrapped her arms around Yaz’s neck and they began to gently sway to the beat of the music. 

“How do’y feel ‘bout pet names?”

“Like for a pet?”

“I know you know what I mean, Doctor.”

“Yeah, don’t mind ‘em, I ‘spose, but I haven’t had one in a while.”

“‘S babe all right?”

“Babe?”

“Every time I’ve said your name I almost said ‘babe’ before it. I don’t know, just wanted to see if you were okay with it before I used it, yeah?”

“Hmm, ‘d have to hear it first.”

“Would ya, babe?” Yaz could feel the Doctor tense up momentarily before melting into Yaz.

“Say that again.” Her voice was soft, almost afraid to hear Yaz’s response to the plea.

“What, babe, what d’you need me to say again.”

The Doctor sighed and rested her head against Yaz’s neck. After a few seconds she took a deep breath. “Yeah, you can use it, just, mind the weight behind the words, yeah?”

“What, does it affect you when I say ‘babe’?” She made sure to whisper that low into the Doctor’s ear in a husky voice and all it did was bring a chill down the Doctor’s back. 

“Yeah.” She nodded and held Yaz closer, out of fear that she’d fall if she let go.

][

The crisp white walls of the resort brought Yaz back months ago. A vacation spent separated and painted with bittersweet regret. Memories swirled of waking up pressed flat against the Doctor and “Isn’t this that resort we visited a while back?” 

“Yeah.” 

“We stayin’ again.”

“Not unless you want to,” The Doctor shook her head, “I just, there’s somethin’ I need to show you.” Yaz stilled at the tenor of seriousness in the Doctor’s voice. She met her eyes and it wasn’t filled with the dancing joy that usually resided but a calm questioning, a solemness. 

“Show me what?”

The Doctor nodded past them, hand finding Yaz’s and Yaz took comfort in the familiar chill of her fingers, “Right this way.” The Doctor began to move, slowly at first, careful to make sure Yaz was still with her. The place was different from how Yaz had remembered it, the melancholy of the first visit seeming to wear off with each second, now instilled with a new worry. It was empty. Very empty. She wasn’t sure how the Doctor was able to get this place completely evacuated but it was a nice touch to an already intense moment. 

As if she had heard her thoughts or noticed her curious eyes darting over the surprisingly empty space, the Doctor responded, “I rented the station out.” There was a quick sheepish grin at that when the doors beside her slip open to reveal barren exhibits. A museum. 

The Doctor didn’t stop at any of them, just kept walking past each individual piece as if the bright colors were mute against her thoughts.

The Doctor could still feel the longing that she imprinted on this place during her first visit. The thick, slow burning, permeated each step and she just gripped Yaz’s hands tighter to ground her in the moment. The heat between their married palms was enough to melt the pain of the past away. 

And then she was there. Standing in front of that one fated piece. The painting was burned into her mind after hours of close examination. 

“The name of this piece is ‘Hyute re Talus’, word for word ‘Smoke of Their Fire’ but it really means ‘Their soul.’ I needed to show you to this ‘cause, well, when I were going through all that awhile back this paint were there to help, you know? I kept looking at it and the more I looked at it and the more I learned the history of it, I don’t know… It reminded me of somethin’ you had said that ‘all that matters is who you try to be today and tomorrow’ and I couldn’ get it out of my head. This painting used to be unfinished and imperfect and the artist just didn’t accept it. They worked and worked and worked until they were proud of it and—You see, you’re the reason this paintin’ is so important. You’re the reason this paintin’ made everythin’ better, you helped me so much, Yaz, in so many ways.

“Well, anyway, you know how I said it were called ‘Hyute re Talus’? Well it’s not anymore. I went back in time and well, may have told them of a few traditions here on Earth, like the symbolism of flowers, and how names can be inspired by flowers and such and well, you should look at that plaque.” 

Yaz didn’t know how to digest the information. Didn’t know what to do with it, her mouth just dropped and when she finally shook out of her stupor she walked over to the plaque. She read it and read it again and again and again, just to make sure she had read it right, because if she wasn’t confused, she was pretty sure that the plaque had read, “Yasmin.” The Doctor delivered her name sickly sweet, “Derived from Jasmine which means: Beauty and purity and good luck.” 

“Cause that’s what you are for me. Beauty, and purity, and luck.”

Yaz looked back over to the Doctor, her face split wide with scalding love, that sweet nectar swirling between them, painted onto her face, painted into this beautiful moment. “Amazin’.”

“I know!” The Doctor smiled, finally, pride slipping onto her face, “I thought you’d—”

“Not that.”

“What?”

“You, babe, you’re amazin’.” Yaz pushed forward, wrapped her fingers in the Doctor’s coat and pulled in her for a soul crushing kiss. Lips soft and gentle on each other, aching with tenderness while also screaming to the roof about the true pain of finding love and the way it burns so beautifully and their lips just kept going.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> first and foremost thank you all so so so much for reading this it means the world
> 
> second off, if you have a dollar to spare, i'm trying to save up for top surgery and have a gofundme which you can find here: https://www.gofundme.com/f/jaxonstopsurgeryfund?utm_medium=copy_link&utm_source=customer&utm_campaign=p_na+share-sheet&rcid=b28e805bf7fa408eb5ee2429dedde59c
> 
> lastly: I love yall and am dead excited for the special,

**Author's Note:**

> my tumblr: nonbinaryriotchild


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